Thanks for the Memories
by Sarah Is a Spy
Summary: Hermione stared at her in awe, admiring her outgoing silliness. Since when did Ginny pole dance? Since when did Hermione party like this, and actually let herself get drunk?


**Bahaha, ok I give. I love Harry Potter fanfictions... particularly DracoxHermione ones... but we shall NOT get into that right now. Anyway... here's my shot at a oneshot. A bit OOC... but you know... people changed after the last battle. The world will never be the same.**

"Woo!" Ginny, who happened to be drunk, swung around the pole at her friend's bachelorette party. Hermione stared at her in aw, admiring her outgoing silliness. Since when did Ginny pole dance? Since when did Hermione party like this, and actually let herself get drunk?

"Oh, Gin, you better get—off-f-uh the—down, oh you know what I means! You're a bit tipsy from the fire whiskey!" Hermione yelled to her maid of honor. Hermione knew best. Even though she questioned her happiness with Ron when no one was looking, she couldn't help but long to be in the Weasley family. Yes, Hermione, the bookworm, the brightest witch of the age, the muggle-born, was getting married.

"Fine! You show us what you got!" Ginny Weasley—soon to be Potter—jumped off the stage full of color and lights. Hermione's face, though shaded with the multicolored stage lights, reddened.

"Fine..." She huffed, jumping on the stage, doing her best to dance in the suggestive way that only a girl who had spent countless hours in the library could. Ginny whistled, getting the other girls worked up and encouraging the bride-to-be to show them that Ron was getting more than he deserved. Even Luna was loosened up on fire whiskey, getting into the beats of the pop music, her head full of nargles bobbing.

They were in a back room of the Three Broomsticks. It was enlarged and redecorated, thanks to the wand of Ginny. A door in the back led to the rest of the inn and a few of the girls were walking in and out, taking a break from the fun. The guest list included the Parvati, Lavender, Katie, Angela, Luna, Cho, and countless other Hogwarts girls. After the war, they all seemed to have bonded.

"Okay, I'm done," Hermione breathed heavily as she sat down next to Ginny. She had danced on the stage to at least five songs in a row, which was enough for her head and body. Having never drunk fire whiskey before then, "tipsy" didn't quite describe how she felt. Adrenaline pumped with the alcohol, empowering Hermione. "I thsink," Hermione slurred, "I-I'm 'onna go get—take—breathe—break... I'm jus' gonn' go out there." She pointed to the door, leading to the rest of the Three Broomsticks.

"Ok, 'Mione, don't be too long!!" Ginny called out, before jumping back to her display of "Witches gone wild."

Hermione, head throbbing, legs wobbling, thumped down on a barstool and looked towards the end of the bar where there sat a lonely-looking young adult. He looked familiar, but Hermione wasn't in a thinking mood. She didn't have to think for too long. The man looked toward her and stood to display his towering, lean structure. His gray eyes pierced into hers and she couldn't look away. "Granger," he said.

"Malfoy?" She questioned whether her mind or the fire whiskey was playing tricks on her.

"Who do I look like, the bloody grim reaper?" he replied coldly.

"Well that guess isn't too far off." Even drunk, she was witty, and that vexed him. He could hear the slurs and smell the potent scent that clung to them both. Malfoy, after the war, drowned himself in misery.

"Can we just come to a truce?" he asked suddenly. Perhaps it was a thought that had been clawing its way to expression since his first year at Hogwart's, or maybe it was the alcohol talking, but he meant it in all honesty. The woman, who had grown up rather rapidly, eyed him warily.

"Sure..." she lolled her head to the side while he watched her movement, mystified. "You don't kill me, and I won't kill you. How's that?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of 'let's be friends,'" he said with the courage of a Gryffindore and the biting tongue of a Slytherin. "I've found that it is not wise to make an enemy of the brightest witch of our generation." His figure moved closer and closer to a dizzy Hermione. Taking the stool next to hers, he asked for another shot.

"Draco Malfoy. Why are you being so nice?" Hermione sounded uncharacteristically exposed. Her guard was down. There was no need for it anymore.

"Like I said, making enemies isn't wise. 'Make love not war,' is what they say," Draco replied. His cool breath touched her face like a feather. She closed her eyes and leaned toward him. He didn't move—not an inch. However, seconds before the anticipation killed him, she stopped.

Sounding like the sexy kitten hidden in all women, Hermione whispered, "Let's have some fun, friend." He closed his eyes from the tempting sight inches from his nose. He had never had that feeling, deep in his gut. What was that called? And what was that feeling a bit further south than his gut? That feeling he knew....

Now... where to go? Hermione was excited and giddy. The shrieking shack sounded perfect. She skipped outside singing a crazy song about not wanting to be in love. The air, crisply and uniquely smelling like spring at midnight, refreshed the lungs of the two friends. The door to the shack squeaked shut eerily as Hermione cornered Draco at the entrance. She was a beast unleashed from her cage. Tongue sweeping inside his mouth, he did not want it to stop. The way things just turned a hundred and eighty degrees dizzied him and aroused him. This was not the Hermione he once knew. She was new and bold and drove him crazier than at Hogwart's. This wasn't his little crush on the class genius—this was happening to him.

Hermione had given her flower to Ron quite a while ago. Not knowing whether they'd be together again after the war made them act rash and irresponsibly. At least she hadn't gotten that unexpected surprise that she had dreaded the morning after. She was acting purely foolish with Draco, and she didn't care. It was fun and their pasts made it all the more enjoyable.

He looked at her. She looked at him. Breathing heavily, they looked. Her shirt was thrown into the far corner of the room. His pants were still in a bunch at they're feet. Her skirt was within arms reach. His shirt was no where in sight. Was this a mistake? Probably, but it was too late to undo. They fell asleep.

Hermione gasped awake with a pounding headache and nausea. Seeing the platinum blonde hair that covered the eyes of the man lying next to her, she struggle to get up without waking him. She grabbed her shirt and skirt, panties and bra, dressed, and walked out the door, never to see him again for almost twelve years.

Platform nine and three-quarters—it had been years since she was last there. Kissing the top of Rose's head, Hermione said her goodbyes to her daughter, who was dying of anticipation to start at Hogwarts. Hermione had told her so much about it. So many stories of the Golden Trio and so many stories about the ghosts, professors,

"Don't smother her!" said Rose's father. "She can't get on the train with lipstick all over her face."

"Well, at least she won't be getting on the train with dirt on her nose, Ronald." The red haired man smiled at his wife affectionately, remembering they're first year on the Hogwarts express.

"Mum, I'm fine! Please let me go!" Rose protested.

"Just hold on," Hermione said, squeezing her daughter once again. "I love you."

Suddenly, Ron Weasley went stiff, grunting protectively. Hermione looked at him to see what was wrong. "Malfoy's here," he said.

With an intake of breath Hermione said, "Honestly, Ronald, even Harry let it go, why can't you?"

"Because 'Mione! He was a jerk to me all throughout school and was a minion of the Dark Lord."

"Oh get over it." Hermione waved at the truculent blonde. Slowly and unsurely, he approached them.

"Hello, Granger... er... Weasley," he greeted Hermione. "Weasley..." he nodded toward Ron. "A new Hogwart's student I see?"

"I'm Rose," the eleven year old, bushy haired girl presented herself confidently.

"Hello Rose. I'm Mr. Malfoy. I'll be your defense against the dark arts teacher at Hogwarts this year." Draco greeted her respectfully.

"Really?" Hermione said happily. "That's great, Draco."

"Yes, it's my third year at Hogwart's. I guess I finally broke the curse." He gave a smirk that reminded Hermione of their school years.

"Mum," Rose addressed. "I really have to go, the train is going to leave!"

Sighing, Hermione replied, "Fine, dear. Ron, please take Rose to the train. Malfoy and I have some catching up to do."

"What the bloody hell?" Ron said. "Ok, come along Rosey."

A minute after Ron and Rose left, the awkward silence that followed their leave was filled by Draco. "Her eyes are really beautiful. Icy-grey?" He questioned. "Yours are hazel, Ron's are brown. How did you explain it to him?"

Hermione blushed. "I just told him it was a recessive trait... he was never too bright on genetics. I'm happy though, I really am."

"I don't doubt that... really. As much as I'd love for you to be miserable with him, and for that one night to have turned into something else, I see that love you have for each other." Draco Malfoy really had changed. He cared.

"Thank you." Hermione shuddered as goose bumps crawled upon her forearm. "So how have you been... the past 12 years?"

"Alright... I got help after that night. Being at the school has really helped," he said. There was a long time as they just took each other in. "I'll take care of her, you know. She's in good hands. ... Are you ever going to tell her?"

"I..." Hermione began, "don't know." She sighed. It hurt more than she thought it would. "Maybe after her 7th year. I don't think I can tell Ron. It would hurt him too much."

"I understand," Draco nodded to her. "I really must go. First night and everything... It really is nice seeing you. Our daughter will be the brightest witch of her age, just like her mother."

"Thank you." Hermione stood on her tiptoes and kissed Draco Malfoy on the cheek. "I hope to see you soon."

"Goodbye."

**Feedback, peeps, por favor. Let me know your thoughts and feelings. Review please?**


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